


People linked by destiny will always find each other

by EllieStormfound



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Awesome Roach (The Witcher), Fix-It of Sorts, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Mentioned Roach (The Witcher), Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Roach is the Best (The Witcher), The Law of Surprise (The Witcher), Witcher Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, post season one of the tv show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieStormfound/pseuds/EllieStormfound
Summary: In wich Ciri and Geralt find each other and Geralt takes on the role of her (foster-/god-) father. After a few weeks they happen to run into Jaskier, who has not forgiven Geralt...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 74
Kudos: 440





	1. Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> As always: English is not my first language, so if you find any weird spelling, wording or punctuation, you know why.
> 
> I love comments and kudos, they make my day :) just saying :) no pressure :)

Geralt did not care if it was destiny or something else, but when Princess Cirilla, the child he had unwillingly bound to himself with the law of surprise, stood before him in the woods, he knew that he needed and wanted to take care of this girl, to protect her and to learn everything he needed to know to make her life a happy one. 

After he had been so stupid to push away the people he had actually cared for and that had cared for him, he needed to do right by this girl that had stood before him all alone, and who had experienced so much trauma in her short life.

Now it was his responsibility to make sure she was safe, teach her everything she needed to survive and flourish in this cruel world and most importantly feel loved. So he dusted off the heavy heart in his chest which existence he had so eagerly denied, but in the end had not been able to protect from being broken by his own stupid words thrown towards a bard. 

In the first days they travelled together Geralt had noticed that Ciri acted way too grown-up for her few years on this earth. She was very serious, polite and did not complain about or ask for anything. He knew this was a facade she had put up as a coping mechanism. He gave her the room to get to get to know him. 

And he always gave her choices - riding on Roach or walking, making camp now or later - and respected her decisions. He knew that at first she had tried to give the choices back to Geralt or to take the choice she thought would be the smaller effort, as if she was afraid he would just leave her behind if she turned out to be a burden. 

After a few days Ciri quietly asked if she could take Roaches reins. He showed the girl how to approach the yet unfamiliar horse and to his surprise Roach was gentle and patient with Ciri, letting herself be petted. So Ciri took the reins in her small hands and from then on the horse was a steady presence at the girl’s side. 

In the evening Geralt showed her how to remove the saddle and how to properly dry off the horse with a hand full of hay. Ciri eagerly learned to take care of Roach, when and what to feed her or when they should stop for Roach to drink and rest. Ciri got more relaxed and sometimes he even saw a faint smile on her face when she petted the horse’s neck.

But the first time Ciri’s earnest little face really light up with a smile was when he picked up sweet strawberries from a farmer. It had felt like the greatest honor to be bestowed upon him. And she opened up more and more. One night she asked for a second helping of their dinner, a day later she asked to ride a while on Roach and another night she told him that she liked the roasted rabbits more than the stew he had cooked the night before.

And when one evening she quietly asked if they could make camp now because her feet hurt he was in no way annoyed but truly honored that she finally trusted him enough to voice something like that - only slight nervous, but without fear.

It was a delight when she started to talk. Not just the polite answers she had given him in their first few days together, but she started to tell him things. Sometimes she talked about her favorite foods, a game she had loved to play with her friends or about the fat orange cat from the cook that she had loved dearly and other times she told him about the last days with her grandmother and the attack from Nilfgaard. 

When she started to ask about his swords he offered to teach her basic fighting stances and moves. The girl was an eager student. 

Ciri took a liking to the life with the witcher. She started to love all the little chores that were part of their traveling days, like gathering wood for a fire or herbs for their meals and even scrubbing their cooking pot. But taking care of Roach was still her favorite.

One day Ciri insisted that they stop when she saw fields of wildflowers. She gathered flowers and present them to the horse one after another and memorized the ones that Roach’s liked to eat, so she could gather more of them the next time. And she loved to comb and braid the horse’s mane. 

The first time he saw wildflowers braided into Roach’s mane his heart had stopped for a moment, till he realized it was not Jaskier’s work but Ciri’s. When he had travelled with the bard, Jaskier had also taken a liking to the horse and surprisingly Roach had let him braid his mane and to Geralt’s confusion even seemed to like it. Ciri’s worried reaction to Geralt’s cold expression made him soften his face to a smile, telling her how lovely their horse looked. 

It had been unexpected for the witcher how much the thought of Jaskier and the reminder of his absence did upset him. Finding Ciri and traveling with her towards Kaer Morhen had distracted him largely from thinking about the bard but in that moment Geralt felt how much he had screwed up. He could not remember why he had said those cruel words to his bard.

And this was not the only instance where Ciri made him think of Jaskier. When the girl had started to opened up to Geralt, it had hit him how her cheery personality and absolute trust in him reminded him of his former traveling companion. It was a bitter reminder that only few humans were so relaxed and careless around him and how he had driven away one of these precious few. 

For Ciri’s protection Geralt had suggested to cut her hair short and wear trousers as a disguise. Ciri warmed up to the idea quickly. With the trousers it was far easier to ride on Roach and to climb rocks or trees and it took way less time to comb and wash the shorter hair.

Geralt greatly enjoyed it, when the girl was happy. After all the trauma she had experienced he was amazed about her ability to find joy in little things, like beautiful flowers or the pretty song of a bird. He was often amazed by her endless energy. In the evenings she often danced around their fire, telling him old bedtime stories from her early childhood.

And she sang. Ciri loved to sing. But to his utter dismay the songs she enjoyed most were from none other than Jaskier - the famous bard, as Ciri liked to call him. She told him that the bard had - unknown to Geralt - visited the Citran Court regularly, performing at many bankets over the course of Ciri’s life. And the girl was absolutely smitten with the bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Find me on tumblr [EllieStormfound](https://elliestormfound.tumblr.com/)


	2. Amulets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri and Geralt continue traveling together. And a dagger is not the only thing Geralt buys Ciri at the market.

Ciri enjoyed Geralt’s training and learned quickly all the basic fighting moves. She was eager to learn how to handle a sword, but the witcher’s swords were too heavy for her. Because they ran low on provisions anyway he decided to visit a small town on their way, where he might be able to buy a knife for the child. 

They arrived at the outskirts of the town when the sun stood high in the sky. On their way farmers on fully laden carts had surpassed them. Geralt was nervous that someone might recognize Ciri, but this far north nobody knew about the Lion Cub of Cintra and Nilfgaard had not been able to reach this far yet. And the child that walked beside him did not resemble a princess in any way. Her short hair was ruffled from the wind, her face had gotten darker from the weeks of exposure to the sun and her simple clothes were in need of washing. 

As they neared the center of the village, the streets grew more crowded and as he heard music from afar Geralt realized that they had arrived on market day. That meant more people, but a better chance to find a good knife for Ciri. The girl’s face light up as she heard the music. To Geralt’s enhanced hearing it sounded like a band of unskilled musicians, who tried to make up for their lack of talent with lots of bells and loud drums. As they neared Geralt’s expression grew more sour as Ciri’s light up.

“Geralt, it’s a song from Jaskier, can you see the bard, is it him?” the girl asked excitedly, tucking at Geralt’s hand. The witcher instantly knew it was not. “No,” he said, “just someone else singing his song very badly.” Ciri laughed at this.

The girl pulled him towards the music. Even though it was not the famous bard himself, Ciri would not miss out on this occasion. Geralt complied. They managed to grab a seat at a table with a view of the band. Geralt ordered something warm to eat and drink. 

After a few songs Ciri started to sing along together with the rest of the crowd to the more indecent songs. She knew a lot of the them by heart, delighting in shouting especially naughty words from the lyrics like “fuck” particularly loud. Geralt could not bring together the image of the earnest and withdrawn girl he had found in the woods, with this cheerful one, but was glad for the transformation nonetheless. 

But why did they need to sing Jaskier’s songs? And why did it disturb Geralt so much? He tried to convince himself that he was just revolted by how bad these musicians were butchering his bard’s songs.

When the musicians paused for a few minutes, Ciri turned to Geralt. “Why do you look so grumpy? The songs are supposed to be cheerful!”, she asked.

Geralt, until now, had not have the heart to tell the Girl about his history with the bard she admired so much. “The songs remind me of someone I was once friends with”, he answered vaguely. 

“Who?” she asked. 

The witcher had found out over the few weeks they’ve been traveling together that he had a very hard time refusing the girl anything. Slaying terrible monsters was nothing compared to withstanding her pout. And Ciri was rarely content with his usually short answers to all her questions and would pester him so long till he gave her a satisfyingly detailed one. Geralt sighed.

“Jaskier, the bard you like so much, we … were friends.” It was somehow hard to get the words out. “We have been frequently traveling together for a few weeks at a time over the last years,” he continued, seeing her eyes widen with surprise. 

“Why did you never tell me?” she asked. “Because,” Geralt sighed again, “I think we are not friends anymore.” And to his surprise he continued, “and I am ashamed because it is my fault.” Admitting wrongdoings or feelings was not something he normally did. It felt awkward and uncomfortable, but somehow this girl made him want to tell the truth.

“What happened?” she asked, taking one of his big callused hands in her small ones. “I don’t really know why it happened,” he said, shaking his head. “I had been very stressed at that day, and I guess he did something that annoyed me, that was just a bit too much for me, so I lashed out and said some very mean things to him.” Admitting this to a child he wanted to be a good example to made him even more ashamed. The girl looked at him seriously. “Did you mean the things you said?” she asked. “No,” he said without thinking. “And I never got to apologize to him.” 

When they finished their meals Geralt insisted on quickly stocking up their supplies, so they would still have a few hours to leave the village again to make camp for the night. The thought of a warm and dry bed in the inn was compelling, but the witcher wanted to keep their time in this town to a minimum. They had already lost enough daytime listening to the musicians. 

The two walked from stall to stall, buying dried meat, bread and woolen socks till Ciri stopped in front of a small shabby stall, pulling excitedly at Geralt’s sleeve. “Look, they are selling amulets with pressed buttercups,” Ciri said, pointing. 

The witcher overheard the vendor talking to a customer, “yes, these amulets are an homage to the great bard Jaskier, a namesake to these beautiful yellow flowers.” With a sigh the witcher looked to Ciri. Geralt knew that this vendor was - like the terrible musicians - just making easy money off of Jaskier’s success. But Geralt was not able to deny Ciri anything, so he bought an amulet on a thin leather band and carefully tied it around her neck, being rewarded with a hug and kiss on the cheek. 

Geralt spotted a display of daggers at the next stall. He made Ciri test out which one lay best in her hand and after finding the perfect one haggled with the vendor till they reached an acceptable price. This was the last item on their list, so they made their way back to the stables on the outskirts of the village, where they had left Roach. 

It had gotten dark when they had made camp a few hours later in a clearing in the woods. Now Geralt sat in front of their crackling fire and Ciri was packing away their wooden bowls, freshly washed after their dinner. Geralt sensed her stepping behind him. “Close your eyes,” the girl said excitedly, “I have a surprise for you.”  
Geralt growled, “I don’t want you to cut my hair again, we agreed to that.” Ciri laughed and said, “don’t be silly, it is a nice surprise.” 

So he closed his eyes and felt her little hands putting something around his neck. Then she stepped in front of him and said, “open your eyes.” He did and when he looked down he saw to his surprise the buttercup-amulet hanging next to the witcher amulet on his chest. In confusion he looked up at Ciri registering that she still had her own. 

“How did you get this?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, because he knew she did not had coins on her. 

“Oh, I stole it,” she said proudly. Geralt furrowed his brow and sighed.

“Ciri,” Geralt said with a serious face, “you must know that stealing is wrong.” She huffed. “When you haggled about the dagger I heard the vendor of the store with the amulets say some nasty stuff about Jaskier, how he is bad at writing songs and that made me very angry so I stole it.” She still did not look in the least ashamed. 

“And I think you deserve one to remind you of your friend,” she said in a small voice. “I know how it feels to say something to a friend that you regret,” she began to tell him. “Once I had a big fight with my friend Zuzanna, she had taken one of my favorite dolls without asking. And while she was playing with it the arm broke off and I was so angry and yelled that I hated her.” 

Geralt looked at her and was moved by her compassion towards him. “And two days later I missed her terribly and I thought that it was just a doll and that I had at least a dozen dolls, but I had only one Zuzanna. So I went to her and said I was sorry for yelling at her and asked if she wanted to be my friend again and then we hugged and everything was fine,” she ended with a smile. 

Geralt was not sure how he deserved to have this wonderful human in his life. He had carried the shame of this for months now and with just a few words she made him feel maybe not less ashamed but less alone. 

“You should really apologize to him,” she said, now looking in his eyes. “He should know that you are sorry and did not mean what you said and maybe you can even be friends again.” That sounded wiser than a twelve year old girl should. Geralt smiled weakly. 

“And,” Ciri said, looking down on her hands shyly, “I thought it would be nice that we have the same necklace, to show we are family now.” Geralt was touched by this. He lifted her chin so she looked in his eyes and said to her “you are right, we are family now, thank you,” and hugged her, their amulets clinking together. “But from now on, stealing is just for emergencies.” He had at least try to teach her something. She hugged him back, promising to keep the stealing to a minimum.

When she fell asleep that night, he looked at the two amulets that lay on his chest. For Ciri’s sake he would wear the buttercup amulet and maybe she was even right that he had to apologize to Jaskier, no matter how the bard would react. Till now he had been so afraid of the possibility that Jaskier would just spit in his face when he finally apologized that he did not even consider it. It was almost comical, that the strong and fearless witcher was paralyzed with fear by the thought of it. 

But now with this child at his side he was surprised to find that this possibility did not frighten him as much anymore. Being an example to the girl also meant telling Jaskier how sorry he was for acting like that and to tell him that he actually liked being friends with him. Then the bard could decide if he still wanted him. But that had to wait. It was important to bring Ciri to the safety of Kaer Morhen as fast as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think I got the idea with the buttercup amulet from Joey Batey's great witcher back off video, you are exactly right! :D
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Find me on tumblr [EllieStormfound](https://elliestormfound.tumblr.com/)


	3. Apologizing might help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Ciri happen to run into a famous bard

Geralt and Ciri had been back on the road for two weeks. The nights had gotten colder and the witcher was worried that snow would start falling soon. Tonight they would reach the last village before the mountains.

It was already dark when they reached the inn. Each year when he returned to Kaer Morhen for the winter Geralt would make a last stop here, stock up on provisions and sleep a night in a soft and warm bed of the local inn before the final days of travel through the mountains. 

First they made sure Roach was properly cared for in the stables. When they opened the door to the inn, the first thing they noticed were lute music and singing, which was strange because musicians did not usually venture to these remote parts. 

And then he recognized the voice that had accompanied him for so long before he saw a glimpse of his bard through the crowded barroom. People were celebrating the rare opportunity of having a real bard in their midst and Geralt were standing frozen in place. After a moment he realized that Ciri was looking up to him, worry battling a smile on her small face.

The witcher pulled the girl to a surprisingly empty table in a corner, from where - to his relief - the bard was not visible. When it got clear that Geralt would not move anytime soon, Ciri went to order something to eat, letting the witcher sort through the jumble of emotions triggered by the sight and voice of the bard. 

Geralt felt oddly thrown back in time. It was eerily familiar sitting alone in a corner of a crowded tavern, listening to Jaskier entertaining a more or less excited crowd to earn coin for the next part of their journey. But there was no “their” anymore. And it was his fault because he had been stupid and impulsive and cruel and did not have to decency to apologize, when he had realized his mistake. And even though he had tried to ignore thinking about it, he had fairly quickly realized his mistake. The times his guilty conscience had been too overwhelming he had tried to justify that Jaskier was better and safer off without him. But it did not really help.

Ciri returned to their table with two mugs, one with beer for Geralt and one with watered apple cider for herself and shortly after a barmaid brought their hot meals. Geralt sat there, not touching his food or drink. 

“Geralt,” Ciris voice shook him out of his thoughts, “are you okay?” He looked at his ward, her serious face looking up at him in concern. With a thankful smile to have her with him he said, “don’t you worry about me. I am fine.” He was clearly not and sure that Ciri knew it. 

He made himself eat and drink and when they finished Ciri got up to refill their drinks. When the girl did not return after a while Geralt started to get concerned. 

And then his heart stopped when he saw her, practically pulling Jaskier by the hand towards their table. Geralt could see the amused confusion on the bard’s familiar face due to the child’s weird insistence of him following her. 

And he could detect the exact moment when the bard registered who was sitting at the table he was pulled to, because the expression on his handsome face quickly changed from shock, to frown till it settled on a schooled expression of a professionally but slightly strained smile. 

“Geralt”, Jaskier said, “what are you…” He turned to Ciri, who had let go of his hand. “And who are…”, his face light up in understanding. He knelt down on one knee before her, beaming from ear to ear “Princess-”, he started, but was immediately interrupted by the child. “Please, just call me Ciri.” With an understanding nod he said, “what an honor to meet you again.” 

Geralt registered that Ciri was flattered by the charming bard, but saw a determined expression winning over her face. “Jaskier,” she said pointing at the witcher, “Geralt has something to say to you.” Then she looked the witcher in the eye and said with a command in her voice that would have made her grandmother proud, “Geralt, you can now apologize to Jaskier.” With that she left the two, weaving through the crowd towards the bar. 

With a shocked but slightly amused expression, Jaskier’s gaze moved a few times between the girl and Geralt. The witcher coughed, stood up, pointed to the empty chair and asked, “would you like to sit.” To his dismay the slight amusement vanished from the bard’s face, but he sat down anyway so Geralt did too. 

“Jaskier, I am…” he began, looking for the right words, “it is nice to see you.” Jaskier looked at him, raised an eyebrow and replied “is it?”

“Yes,” the witcher said. And after a moment, “Jaskier, I am sorry.” The bard, who normally filled the silence between them was quiet. “I am sorry, for what I said to you on the mountain. I am sorry that I took my anger out on you. It was unfair and uncalled for. You have always been a loyal friend to me.” Jaskier raised his eyebrows at the word friend, but remained silent. “And what I did was cruel and then I cowardly left you without apologizing.” He just breathed for a moment. “And I cannot expect that you forgive me. But I wanted you to at least know how sorry I am and that I did not mean what I said.”

Jaskier’s expression was unreadable. He blinked and said, “well, that was an unusually long and eloquent apology.” 

Geralt looked down on his hands, silently replying, “Ciri made me practise it.” 

And the bard laughed. It was short but this musical and familiar sound pierced right into the witcher’s heart. 

“Well,” Jaskier said, “then tell her she did a good job.” Geralt looked up into the face he had missed. “Do you”, he asked with hope, “accept my apology?” 

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier said, “I am very mad at you. And I want you to know how much you hurt me.” The bard looked him straight in the eyes, displaying all the pain on his face, “I thought we were friends, traveling together for more than two decades. And then you just toss me away like an old rag.” 

“I’m...I’m really sorry,” Geralt said after a moment.

Jaskier sighed, “yes, I see that.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You did a very bad job with that,” the bard said.

They sat together in silence for a while. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt began, “I...I missed you.”

“You missed me?” the bard asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” Geralt grunted. 

“You missed having someone around to conveniently stitch you up after a fight?”

“Yes, but not just that,” Geralt sighed, rubbing his eyes, “I missed sharing dinner with you in the evenings and having you yell at people when they did not pay me enough. Even Roach misses you.” The ghost of a smile crept up on Geralt’s face.

But to Geralt’s confusion the bard said, “stop. Geralt, you cannot just tell me those nice things.” He put his head into his hands.

“What do you mean?” Geralt asked.  
“I don’t understand,” the bard said, “why you tell me these things?”

“Because I… ” the witcher said, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I never wanted to push you away. Even when I said those terrible things I never wanted you to leave. And if you let me, then I will be better in the future.”

“Future?” Jaskier asked in an unusually quiet tone, “you want to travel with me again?”

“Yes,” the witcher said without hesitation. And after a short pause, “if you still want that.”

“You know,” Jaskier said, “I should really hate you and curse you to hell….but it seems I cannot stay away.”

“Do you want me to stay away?” Geralt asked quietly.

“No,” the bard replied, “but I cannot travel with you again if you not promise to be a better friend to me.” The bard looked at his hands, “I could not go through this again.”

“I promise you,” the witcher said in his deep voice, impulsively grabbing one of the bard’s hands, squeezing it softly, “and I don’t want to go through this again either.”

When Jaskier looked up, there was still pain, but also hope in his eyes.

After a moment Geralt leaned back and asked, “so what took you here?”, gesturing vaguely around them.

“In this godforsaken village in the middle of nowhere, where the possibility of earning coin is as high as finding decent wine?” Jaskier asked, shaking his head.

“Where you waiting for me?” the witcher asked softly. 

“I would not call it waiting. More like giving destiny the chance to let us accidentally run into each other, I guess.”

“So I could apologize to you?” Geralt asked. 

“Not really. I planed to yell at you before you go hibernating in Kaer Morhen for months,” the bard replied, “I honestly did not expected you to apologize so I am as lost in this situation as you are.”

After a few moments of silent, Jasier asked in a more serious tone, “so you finally found your child surprise?”

“We kind of found each other,” Geralt replied, “one day we were just standing in front of each other in the middle of the woods.” 

Geralt saw Ciri standing a few feet away, looking shyly over to them and waved her over. Jaskier smiled at the sight of the girl, “I heard I have you to thank for Geralt’s apology.” Ciri sat down on the bench next to Geralt. “He was sorry all on his own, I just made him see that actually apologizing to you might help.” 

With a laugh the bard said, “oh I like you.” 

With Ciri at the table their talk turned to more trivial topics. Jaskier told them about his travels through the continent the last months. He had frequented larger cities and courts, because there were more coin to earn. 

Geralt felt the tension seep out of him. He had put an arm around Ciri, who was leaning against him, eyes bright with wonder about the colorful stories of her favorite bard. Jaskier told them about royal balls where ladies outshone each other with beautifully colorful dresses, about a music-festival where his performance had earned him an award and how he was employed by a king to write a ballad about his life. Geralt only noticed that Ciri had fallen asleep when Jaskier fell silent, watching the girl with a soft smile. 

“I should get us a room, the girl deserves a night in a dry bed,” the witcher said quietly. 

“You will have no luck with that,” Jaskier replied, “and I may be to blame for that. The rumors of my performance have attracted everyone in a 10 mile radius and because they don’t have too much to celebrate here around the year, they took the occasion to emptying out the wine cellar. I estimate they won’t be leaving till tomorrow afternoon.” He continued, smiling at the sleeping child, “but the young lady can have my bed. These people were just about clever enough to reserve a room for the bard.”

Geralt stood up and when he bend down to pick up Ciri, his wolf amulet and to his utter dismay the buttercup amulet slipped out of his shirt, clicking softly together, drawing the bard’s gaze to them. With an annoyed grunt he lifted up Ciri, pressing her to his chest, but had no hand free to tuck them back into his shirt. 

With a huge grin Jaskier stepped towards the witcher with the girl in his arms, taking the buttercup amulet into his hand, to better look at it.

“Are you wearing my merchandise, Geralt?”, the bard asked quietly, not to disturb the sleeping Ciri, but with an unmistakably amused tone to his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Find me on tumblr [EllieStormfound](https://elliestormfound.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier are tender idiots and can't for the life of them help themselves not being tender idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I gave up naming the chapters, it always gave me a headache, sorry.
> 
> I love all your comments and kudos. They help me!

Geralt was surprised when Jaskier showed him not to a guest room but the owners own two-room apartment, that he had been given for his stay. The bedroom was comfortably warm with a small oven radiating heat. Geralt laid Ciri down in the bed, carefully tucking her in and with a kiss to her forehead left the small bedroom, that only contained the bed, the oven and a chair. 

The second room was not much bigger. Next to the window stood a desk, where the owners did their bookkeeping, and in another corner an old battered sofa with a low table to put drinks on in front of a fireplace, where a fire was burning.

Jaskier was already sitting on the sofa when Geralt stepped into the room quietly shutting the wooden door to the bedroom. The bard had grabbed two tankards with beer on their way up, holding one in his hand, the other one on the table for Geralt. 

Geralt moved closer but hesitated for a moment before he sat down on the other end of the sofa. It was too small to keep at a distance, but he was careful not to take up too much space.

The bard and the witcher sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks. Geralt was not sure where to look, hesitant to look Jaskier in the eyes, but somehow sure the bard was watching him. 

“Thank you for letting the girl sleep in the bed,” Geralt managed to say after a while.

“You seem to care about her,” Jaskier replied silently.

“Yes,” Geralt said, finally looking up at Jaskier. He could not decipher the mix of emotions displayed on the bard’s face. There was still hurt visible but also a sad kind of fondness. 

“Good,” Jaskier said. 

A moment later Jaskier leaned forward to put his empty tankard on the table. He looked up at Geralt, a small smirk forming on his lips. With slow but deliberate movements he lifted his hand to Geralt’s neck, tucking at the necklaces till the amulets dropped out of Geralt’s shirt. Careful not to touch the wolf-amulet he took the buttercup-pendant in his right hand brushing with the thumb over the smooth surface, examining it closely.

Jaskier’s face was so close to Geralt’s, that the witcher could smell the beer on his breath, but also his familiar scent. Geralt was reminded that Jaskier had always been prone to casual touching. Geralt had the weird impulse to wrap his arms around the bard, hugging him tightly to his chest and burying his face in the soft brown curls, but the moment passed when Jaskier looked up again, still with a wicked smirk on his lips.

“And will you tell me why you paid some - no doubt - shady vendor coin to buy a buttercup-amulet?” the bard said, amusement playing over his face, “I heard they were selling them all over in the northern countries as a tribute to my outstanding talent.”

Geralt did not manage the disgruntled look he was aiming for. The memory of Ciri giving him the necklace made him smile softly. 

“Technically no one paid anything for this pendant,” Geralt growled, “Ciri stole it.”

The bard had to stifle a laugh. “So you teach your child surprise, the Lion Cub of Cintra, an actual princess to steal?” he asked with raised eyebrows. 

“I bought her one,” he said, “she is really smitten with you and your music, you know, and,” Geralt continued, blushing lightly, “it is kind of hard to say no to her.” 

The bard chuckled quietly, “so she managed to make the White Wolf eat out of her small palm.” 

Geralt continued, “I had told her that we,” he shot a glance at Jaskier before looking down again, “were … are …” nervously he brushed with his right hand through his hair, “friends, but that I had said some really cruel things to you that I regretted. When she heard the vendor of the shop say something unkind about your songwriting she got mad and stole one of the amulets. Later she gave it to me as a reminder of you. And as some kind of symbol, that she and I are …” Geralt had gotten more serious and silent with every word, “some kind of family now.”

Jaskier’s smirk had softened to a small smile. “That girl is really something”, he replied.

“Yes, she is,” Geralt said with fondness and a touch of pride. 

Jaskier still had the pendant in hand and Geralt’s traitorous mind made him imagine Jaskier pulling at the necklace till their lips met. He was not sure where this thoughts came from. Okay, Jaskier had been a friend, a long time friend, one of the precious few Geralt had. But it had never occurred to him that there could be something else than friendship. Maybe he was just confused because he was so relieved to see his bard again and that their encounter had been better than he had feared. 

His mouth had gotten uncomfortably dry and he licked his lips, noticing Jaskier’s blue eyes following the movements of his tongue, pupils wide in the dim light.

Geralt’s voice was even rougher than usual as he whispered, “Jaskier…”

The bard’s eyes traveled up from his mouth to his eyes, that shone golden in the flickering firelight. Geralt examined the face that was looking back at him. The familiar arches of his eyebrows, so often raised in amusement, the line of his nose, only slightly crooked from a childhood injury, the gentle curve of his sensual lips, always prone to easy smiles. 

But he also noticed slight differences from when he had seen him last on the damned day on the mountain. There was a small crease on his forehead, as if he had been worrying more and shadows under his eyes that hinted at too many nights spent with too little restful sleep. Guilt rose up in him at the thought that he was to blame for this. That the repercussions of his awful behaviour had been permanently etched into Jaskier’s skin. 

The bard had let go of the amulet but was still leaning towards Geralt as if not wanting to put more distance between them. Geralt lifted his hand, softly placing his fingers on the side of the bards head, gingerly stroking with his thumb over the crease on Jaskier’s forehead. He felt Jaskier leaning into his touch just the slightest bit, closing his blue eyes. 

“You have been worrying,” Geralt silently said.

Jaskier’s eyes popped open and he leaned back with a huff. 

“I thought we were having a moment here and you oaf decide to tell me that I have gotten wrinkles,” Jaskier said indignantly, instantly knowing what Geralt was hinting at, “but I guess I have to blame myself for expecting anything else.”

Geralt furrowed his brows, “I am sorry Jaskier, I didn’t mean … I am,” he fumbled for words to explain his jumbled feelings, something he was definitely not used to, “I hate myself for being responsible for…” He could not find the words to finish the sentence.

With a short laugh that did not sound amused, Jaskier replied, “oh, don’t give yourself too much credit, you are not so important as to give me wrinkles.” Jaskier could not look into his eyes as he said this blatant lie, desperately wanting it to be true. Geralt saw tears welling up in the bard’s eyes. 

But with a blink they were gone, a smirk back on the bard’s face. “Now that we have discussed the changes of my mortal body, what is new with you, Geralt, beside your child surprise? Any new scars, any new tales of slain monsters for me to sing about?”

Geralt was not sure why he was not more relieved to be back on more familiar ground with Jaskier asking him about his monster hunting. There was still this confusing need to touch the bard, but Jaskier had leaned back again and Geralt was not sure how to initiate any casual touches. 

“After the mountain I only had very few contracts. And when I met Ciri I did not want to bring her in any more danger so there was no more monster slaying after that,” Geralt said.  
Jaskier was watching him and Geralt felt the need to tell Jaskier more, to show him that he tried to not be the same grumpy monosybillic witcher as before. So he rolled up his right sleeve, pointing at his biceps to a new ragged scar. 

Jaskier leaned forward again, carefully touching the scar, examining it closely. Geralt held his breath, not daring to move. Silently he said, “it was a downer, I hadn’t expected there to be two.”

Jaskier’s thumb brushing lightly over the scar mixed with the feeling of the bard’s breath on his arm left a not unwelcome tingly feeling. “A shame you did not have me with you, I would have stitched it up cleaner.” 

Geralt thought back to himself sitting alone after that particular fight, covered in mud and gore, trying to stitch up the wound, that was just slightly out of comfortable reach. He remembered it as one of the many moments after the mountain he had regretted driving Jaskier away.

As he had told him earlier, he had not just missed having someone to help stitch him up after a fight. When a fight was over Jaskier had always been there, scanning the witcher for injuries with a concerned look on his face. At first Geralt had been annoyed by this, but over time got used to it. After a while when he turned from a fight won he waited for the moment when the expression on the bard’s face would lighten from the concerned frown to a relieved smile, when Jaskier determined that the witcher was not too badly injured.

Then the bard would have helped him out of his armour, gently cleaned the wounds, putting ointment on before bandaging them. When Geralt had protested, that his enhanced witcher’s healing would take care of the minor wounds, Jaskier had always told him with a smile that it was better to clean out the dirt before a wound healed over. And when Geralt had protested that he did not need soothing ointment, Jaskier had always said, that just because as a witcher Geralt could tolerate pain better than humans, he was not obligated to do that unnecessarily. After a while Geralt had accepted these explanations because they were logical. His body was the tool of his trade. The better its condition the better he could do his work. 

And then he had been on his own again.

“Any more scars I don’t know of, witcher?” Jaskier asked in a husky voice, bringing him back to the present. Geralt could not suppress a quick smile, “do you want me to undress, bard?”

To his delight he saw Jaskier break into a wicked smile again, licking his lips. “Well,” the bard said, “who can say no to that?”, comfortably lounging back with an expectant look on his face. 

Both were slightly shocked when Geralt actually stood up to pull off his shirt. Jaskier’s eyes widened in surprise and something else as Geralt stood before him, naked from the waist up. The flickering firelight was dancing across his broad chest, so familiar even after all this months of separation. On first sight he could not see any new scars, only the familiar lines crossing the witcher’s chest. After a moment Geralt stepped toward the sofa, sat down facing away from Jaskier, so the bard had a good look at his back.

It was a disarming gesture. Not only was Geralt doing what Jaskier had asked him, albeit jokingly, but it was also a gesture of pure trust. Exposing one's back, without armor, not even a shirt. Geralt was not quite sure why he did it. 

After a moment he pointed between his shoulder blades to a long scar, snaking down half of his back. He heard a short gasp from the bard before he felt gentle fingers tracing the scar.

“How did this happen?” Jaskier asked, barely audible. “It happened when I wanted to collect the payment for a job. The people in the town did not want to pay, teamed up with torches and pitchforks…”

Jaskier was uncharactaristically silent. The moment Geralt wanted to turn around he felt Jaskier’s head gently pressing between his shoulder blades and the bards arms carefully wrapping around his chest, pressing one hand over Geralt’s slowly beating heart.

“I swear to you and to god I will murder them all,” Geralt more felt than heard the bard muffle against his back.

The witcher felt like something fall into place. Like something that had not been right before, something he could not quite put a finger on, was righted. His bard, pressed against his back, arms wrapped around him felt like he had always been supposed to hold him like this. 

And the cruelty of the common people towards witchers that Geralt always tried to brush off, framed as what it was, acknowledged and condemned by his bard, made his heart settle. The feral nature of Jaskier threatening to murder anyone who had hurt Geralt would have seemed ridiculous to anyone else but Geralt knew that Jaskier would not hesitate to defend the witcher with all he had. He put his hand over Jaskier’s hand, that was pressed to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I love these moments that are full of promise and opportunities, of yearning and longing. Like a moment before a first kiss or something...who knows! I like the moment before more than the kiss itself so I will prolong it and you cannot stop me.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Find me on tumblr [EllieStormfound](https://elliestormfound.tumblr.com/)


	5. Capter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There may be kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not that long, but I wanted to share it and hope you will enjoy the fluff.

After they sat like this for a while, Geralt turned around, facing Jaskier. In the dim light of the room he could see the bard’s flushed cheeks and the light of the fire was dancing in his blue eyes. Slowly Geralt brushed a lock of brown hair behind the other man’s ear, resting his hand on the side of his head, caressing the cheek with his thumb.

Even though the sofa was too small, his leg was tingling, because he sat in a weird position and his back was starting to get uncomfortably cold from the sudden removal of a warm body, Geralt would not have changed anything in this moment. 

A distance in Jaskier’s expression that he had not really been aware of before was gone now and he looked at the witcher as he had always looked at him, but what Geralt had always tried to ignore. Now he took it in with open eyes and an open heart. There was adoration in Jaskier’s eyes, an openness and ease and longing. And there was love. Geralt was not sure how he knew that, but it was clearly written in his bard’s face in familiar lines that had always been there. 

“Please kiss me,” he heard Jaskier say, nearly drowned by the crackling of the fire and the wind howling outside. It sounded like a question, a plea and a demand at the same time. 

And he obeyed. Slowly but deliberately he leaned forward and when their lips brushed he felt Jaskier’s hand weaving in his hair, pulling him closer. 

It felt like coming home. Jaskier’s scent intensified by their nearness, the familiar sound of his heartbeat, the hands in his hair and on his face and the taste of his lips made him feel alive and safe and young and old. It was like an explosion of emotions that he had denied himself for decades and were now flooding all his senses. He never wanted to stop. They kissed slowly, testing out this new terrain of their relationship without the need to rush. 

When their lips parted, Geralt leaned his forehead against Jaskier’s, still near enough to share breaths, not willing just yet to further the distance. But he wanted to look him properly in the eyes. So he leaned back just far enough that he could see Jaskier looking back at him.

“Jaskier, I love you,” Geralt whispered, as if he was afraid that saying the words louder would somehow break this moment, “and I think I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Oh Geralt, how I have longed to hear this words from you,” the bard replied, brushing with a thumb over Geralt’s lips. “I love you too, I loved you from the moment I met you.” 

They kissed again, still slowly, getting to know a part of the other they had not known yet. And it took tremendous effort to break their kiss again, when Geralt heart little footsteps and the creaking of the door to the bedroom. 

Ciri had woken up and stood in the doorframe, looking at them without surprise. With a tired smile she walked over and said, “I had a nightmare.” When Geralt extended a hand to her she climbed without hesitation on the sofa, in the small space between the bard and the witcher, snuggling up to Geralt. 

“It’s okay, we are here with you,” Geralt said, rubbing her back. He looked up to Jaskier, afraid to find annoyance on his face, but was relieved when he saw him looking with a big smile at Ciri and the witcher. 

“Do you want to talk about you nightmare, love, or shall I sing you a lullaby?” Jaskier asked the girl. Ciri looked at him, reached out her hand to hold Jaskiers. “Can you sing something, please?” she asked. And so they sat there, Ciri snuggled up in Geralt’s arms, holding onto Jaskier’s hand, who, with his other hand, caressed her hair, silently singing the girl back to sleep.  
Geralt felt content and peaceful. He knew that it was a false sense of security, that they were practically fleeing Nilfgaardian soldiers that were hunting for Ciri and that the next part of their journey through the rough mountains to Kaer Morhen wouldn’t be easy. 

So he tried to memorize this moment. The crackling of the fire, the dancing firelight in the dim room, the child in his arms, that so unexpectedly had found a way into his heart and the soft and melodic voice of his bard, singing the child to sleep. 

Geralt could not stop looking at Jaskier. At the smile that softened his face as he was looking at the girl, at the brown curls that fell into his eyes and the beautiful blue eyes that were so open and awake. He knew Ciri had fallen asleep again when her breathing and heartbeat had slowed to a steady rhythm and Jaskier looking up at him. 

He was relieved and pleased how easily the bard had taken to the girl, that he had given her his undivided attention when she needed and wanted it and that her well being seemed to be as important to him as it was to Geralt himself. 

“Jaskier, I travel with Ciri to Kaer Morhen. Will you accompany us?” he asked quietly as not to wake up the girl. 

“Is that…are you sure?” Jaskier asked. 

“Yes,” Geralt replied without hesitation, “I need to bring Ciri somewhere where she is safe.” 

“And you want me to come with you?” the bard asked again.

Geralt took the bard’s hand in his and looked him firm in the eyes, “yes, please come with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Find me on tumblr [EllieStormfound](https://elliestormfound.tumblr.com/)


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